


The Calling

by vakarians_girl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Really Just a Lot of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vakarians_girl/pseuds/vakarians_girl
Summary: Alistair may be king, but he is still a Grey Warden. And when the others begin to hear the Calling, he does too.
Relationships: Alistair Theirin/Talvinder Kaur Cousland, Alistair/Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	The Calling

It was the middle of the night when he heard it, like a whisper vibrating against his spine. Talvinder had been gone nearly two months, and time was beginning to blur without her there. But he knew it was midnight, and he knew what he heard. The Calling. Even quiet, it was there, insistent, scraping against the inside of his skull.  _ You’re exhausted _ , he told himself, i _ t’s a dream. A nightmare. No one’s ever heard of a Warden hearing the Calling after only ten years _ . And somehow, he fell back to sleep, one arm draped over the pillow where his wife would have slept. He dreamed of her, carefully braiding her long, dark hair in the morning sunlight. But when he awoke in the morning to see that sunlight, he realized he’d had only one dream in the night. THe Calling hadn’t been a nightmare. If anything, it was stronger. 

He spent that morning in the baby’s room, holding her and looking at her face. Not quite a year old yet, she was their miracle. The only thing he would ever thank Morrigan for--other than that horrible ritual--if he ever saw her again. In his arms, his daughter cooed. She was getting heavier, growing so quickly, her hair already thick and dark like her mother’s, her skin a rich, warm brown. And her small, adorable nose made fear bubble up in his chest. They had tried so long to have her; would they end up being the ones to leave her? Little Kajari, delicate as a songbird. Alistair was afraid. So deeply, utterly afraid.

***

The days rolled by, and the scraping chorus inside his bones grew louder. He wrote letters to Talvinder, even though he knew he wouldn’t send them. Endless missives, all ending up with the same request:  _ Please, come home _ . He wandered the castle, sometimes with Kajari babbling in his arms, blocking out the Calling from his ears, and sometimes alone, fearing its volume and the growth of its intensity. There were things he needed to do, royal matters to which he had to attend. But, sitting in the throne room, trying to listen to the voices of the court, he found them turning into grotesque shrieks.

“Your highness--my lord--” A Bann was standing in front of him, and Alistair started. How long had the man been there? And what did he want? He couldn’t remember, no matter how hard he tried. “My lord, the bandits must be stopped. Will you help us?” Unsure of exactly what he was agreeing too, Alistair nodded, and motioned for the steward behind him to make note of the promise. His head ached. For a brief moment, the Calling was silent, but when the next Arlessa in line stepped forward, it began again. 

Hand clamped to his forehead, stomach churning, Alistair lurched to his feet. An apology was muttered, perhaps by him, perhaps by the steward, and he hurried from the throne room. When he had reached Kajari’s nursery, he found her asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he cried as quietly as he could manage.

***

He was just beginning to learn how to shove the noise down, to drown it out himself, when the sky ripped apart. Alistair had been playing with Kajari on the floor of the nursery when the steward rushed into the room, frantic and chaotic.

“Your highness, the sky--something has happened. We cannot...the veil is tearing.” Alistair’s heart went ice cold, and he scooped Kajari up in his arms, ignoring her protests as the little castle made of wooden blocks toppled over.

“What do you mean?” Maker, where is she?

“In the center of the market district. There is something--a door, a rip--demons are coming through. The guard are attempting to hold it, but we do not know how long--” Kajari began to wail in his arms, and Alistair grabbed her stuffed mabari from the ground. King or not, he had no idea what to do, other than keep his daughter safe. 

“How long do you think they can manage?”

“We will need mages, your highness. Or templars.”

“No templars. Call the court mage. See that she is safe, and has everything she needs. Immediately.”

As he moved toward the door, headed for his study, Alistair caught a glimpse of the sky through a window. Green, roiling, angry. He had to write his letter. Even if it never reached her--but he knew, somehow, that it would.

Talvinder, dearest:

I need to know that you’re safe. Wherever you are. Something has happened. I know you left in search of a cure, but my darling, I hear it now. I hear it in every waking moment. I hear it in my sleep. I fear that the tearing of the veil will only make it stronger. Please, my love. Come home. 

Kajari still in his arms, Alistair rushed down the stairs. When he spotted the court mage, he shouted out and waved the letter in the air.

“Lady Surana, wait, please. This is urgent. Can you make sure the queen receives this, wherever she is?” Ellina looked at him, and then at the letter, crumpled and smudged, in his hands. 

“Of course, King Alistair.” She tucked the letter into her robes, and then turned and left, hurrying towards whatever the tear in the veil had produced. Alistair clutched Kajari, turned, and wept. 

***

The reply took weeks. News trickled in about an Inquisition, some Herald of Andraste, a young woman of the Lavellan Clan. Alistair heard it all, and he continued to rule, remained present for his steward and advisors and the court, but he simply waited. There was nothing else his heart could do. The Calling was growing louder, more painful. Even when he was with Kajari, he couldn’t silence it. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Lady Ellina, who prepared poultices for his headaches with a suspicious eye. He couldn’t tell anyone. No one could know. 

But the raven finally came to the window. It was perched there, outside the nursery, when he awoke, realizing that he had fallen asleep watching Kajari. Alistair tripped in his hurry to reach it, almost sending himself sprawling across the carpeted room. With shaking hands, he untied the small scroll, keeping hold of the raven. He would send a letter back, he had to. As he read the words, scrawled across the coarse paper in a hand almost as familiar as his own, he wanted to cry with relief. Kajari stirred, and he bit down on his lip to keep from waking her. 

_ My love _ , the letter read, the Calling is false. _ Do not listen to it. I am so close to a cure. I will come back to you soon. I promise. _

Shoulders shaking, heaving with suppressed sobs, Alistair felt relief for the first time in months. The scraping inside his bones continued, he could hear it still, but louder than it was, louder than it could ever be, were the beating of his own heart, the memory of soft words spoken at midnight, and the soft breathing of his baby. 

“I will come back to you,” Talvinder had said, dark gray eyes steely, “I will come back to you, even if I must fight the world to do so.” And now, despite the Calling in his mind, he believed her.


End file.
